


Too Good the First Time

by pickledbrows



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickledbrows/pseuds/pickledbrows
Summary: Tamaki and Iori experience a lot of their firsts together and it's great. Even if they don't do that. But then Iori does that instead. And he's too good.





	Too Good the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> *drops this here and slides on shades*

* * *

 

Tamaki had never met anyone else like Iori who not only planned everything down to the finest detail weeks ahead of time but flawlessly executed said plans. He had his own planner for school and work that were mostly left blank, meanwhile Iori filled up two planners that even included a lot of the things Tamaki had forgotten to write down. Tamaki owed his passing of second year in school to Iori’s meticulous scheduling. He also owed it to those planners for remembering significant moments in their relationship that evolved from idol group members to boyfriends.

It wasn’t that Iori blatantly wrote down those moments, but Tamaki could easily flip through his old planner and recall a fond memory because all of the growing moments with Iori happened to fall on the same day as something else. Tamaki had a knack for remembering small happenings based off of other events, a talent that Iori had yet to recognize.

The first time Iori held his hand was on the way back to the dorms after exams before summer break of their second year. If he flipped to that week, he’d see where Iori made notes of their exam dates.

Their first kiss was at the aquarium Iori wanted to check out for a school project in autumn. Iori made note of the day and time they were supposed to go, as well as the admission price and train lines to take.

The first time they made out was after the last-minute sparkler party in the agency parking garage. That was right before Christmas. If Tamaki flipped to December, he’d see the scheduled meeting with the President and Banri. Somehow, their conversation with everyone grew casual and focused on summer festivals even though it was winter, and suddenly Nagi was breaking out a stash of sparklers that he’d hidden in the office.

When they’d arrived at the dorm later, Tamaki dared to slip into Iori’s room when everyone was asleep and dared more to shove his cool hands beneath his boyfriend’s warm shirt. It was cramped up on Iori’s loft bed, but it was winter and Iori was reciprocating and soon their touches got hotter and heavier than their winter coats combined. The only regret Tamaki had about the blankets and pillows being kicked off to make space was that he had to peel himself away from Iori to crawl down and get them.

The months leading up to their final year as students had been filled with more firsts, tenths, and even hundredths. They’d definitely kissed at least a thousand times by now. Once in a while, Tamaki would point out a rehearsal day or afternoon of recording that had passed and mention something he and Iori had done in the bathroom or separate dressing room at that time. Iori, in response, would slam the planner shut and yell at him to remember more important things for once.

“Everything with Iorin is more important things,” Tamaki would reply every time and Iori would inhale deeply, hold in whatever comment he wanted to make, and look away as his cheeks went pink.

It was summer now and things with Iori and the group and everyone else outside the group was going great. They kissed a lot, touched a lot,  _ a lot _ , and Iori didn’t protest anymore when Tamaki wanted to remove their shirts. He still held onto his pants with a deathgrip, but at least he would let Tamaki pull them down more. It was hard to get in there and he’d said as much, only to get yelled at by a flustered Iori.

The only thing they had yet to do was  _ that _ , but Tamaki had dreamt of it so much that he felt like they’d done it several times, too. Not a hundred times, but the dreams came so often that he found himself waking up frustrated and spending the day in agony. These sleep experiences taught him how to finally use the washing machine, at least, because letting Mitsuki clean up the aftermath of another dream about his own younger brother was never going to make it on Tamaki’s list of firsts.

Tamaki didn’t want to say he was getting impatient to do  _ that _ , because he found that taking his time with Iori and re-experiencing more of  _ those other things _ with him made up for the  _ other  _ other things their classmates would talk about.  _ A lot _ about. 

The other day, he’d been elbowed out of a nap and surrounded by whispers of First Times and surely he’d experienced  _ his _ by now, right? He was Tamaki Yotsuba, eighteen, and steadily moving up in the “Dakaretai” ranking. That meant something, apparently. He’d asked Iori about it later in the dorms and ended up with a sputtering boyfriend who wouldn’t stop yelling at him about reading the mood.

Today at school, the conversation had been brought up again and a particularly pushy classmate begged Tamaki to spill all his secrets and techniques. His response was to blink, sleepily because another nap had gone to waste, and shrug. In return, he received complaints about withholding his wisdom and Iori shot him a dirty look even though he hadn’t even said anything.

When they arrived at the dorms, he went to the fridge for a snack and was yanked away by a grumbling Iori who led him to his room. Yamato peeked around the corner at them and Tamaki heard him mumbling to Sougo about high school woes.

He was here now, sitting cross-legged on Iori’s floor with a rumbling stomach.

“Iorin—” he whined and was cut off by Iori kissing him really hard.  _ Really  _ hard. He thought his front teeth broke from how Iori smashed right into them. 

Iori was quick to straddle his lap and wrap an arm around his shoulders, and Tamaki held onto his waist to steady the both of them while combating the tongue that invaded his mouth with his own.

He hummed in delight at experiencing another one of Iori’s rare moments of loving aggression, and he was even more excited to find that he wasn’t prevented from untucking Iori’s shirt or sliding his hand over warm, moist skin.

He ended up on his back and Iori on top, their shirts open and their jackets strewn somewhere out of reach. It was warm in Iori’s room and the carpet was itchy, but Iori felt so hot and smooth in his hands. 

At one point, Iori sat down right  _ there _ and Tamaki experimentally thrust up against him, earning a surprised “Yotsuba-san!” and catching Iori’s hands in his own to help him balance. Tamaki grinned and did it again, watching the flush creep up Iori’s neck to his cheeks, nose, and ears. He pulled Iori down for a kiss and continued the jerky bucking, swallowing the shaking moan from his boyfriend’s lips when he managed to grind perfectly  _ there _ .

“I’m—wait! Please, not...I’m—!” Iori babbled, squeezing Tamaki’s hands because Tamaki had no intent of letting him go.

He desperately shook his own hips, biting his lip so hard that Tamaki offered his own to be bitten instead. Their mouths were fiery and wet and Tamaki itched all over, but he planted his feet on the ground and gave Iori the best, first ride of his life.

Iori curled up and slammed his forehead onto Tamaki’s chest, screeching against his sweaty skin as his body tensed and trembled. His palms were moist and sweat dripped from his shoulders, and all Tamaki could do was wrap him in a tired hug when he went boneless.

Their hearts pounded against one another and Tamaki was thankful he’d kept his shirt on at least because his back was hot from where he’d rubbed against the carpet. He was still hard and he cursed his stamina that came with being the group’s best dancer.

“Iorin, g’up,” he groaned and inhaled deeply when his boyfriend did just that.

His breath hitched when Iori, sticky and pink and his eyes blown out, undid his belt and pants and began crawling backwards, downwards. Down. More down. 

“Iorin?” 

Tamaki pushed himself up onto his elbows and stared, brain shooting off because he knew where this was going but he didn’t dare to get his hopes up. Not after what he’d done. He wouldn’t dare— 

“I’ll, with…with my mouth, okay?” Iori said quietly and Tamaki felt the incoming satisfaction of an itch about to be scratched.

What was he supposed to do, say no?  

Iori did a lot of “with my mouth” during summer break and even afterwards. Mouth and hands, and that super move he did with his tongue. Tamaki always thought Iori’s tongue felt so good against his own, but it managed to feel even better when occupied elsewhere. And Iori just kept evolving and every experience was more mind blowing than the last. It was definitely something to look forward to because Iori made it a point to end each intimate encounter with  _ that _ . It was like reaching the pudding in the fridge at the end of a school day. Except hot, not cold, and maybe the same amount of creamy.

Iori had hated when he’d said that.

Tamaki wanted to return the gesture, but every time he reached for Iori’s pants or even hinted that he was going to do anything with his mouth, his hands would get swatted away like some kind of pest. And then Iori distracted him by being even better with  _ his _ mouth than last time. It was hard to deny something so good. Again, like pudding.

It was another day of dance practice after another day of school, and Tamaki wanted badly to pass out on his bed once he finished his hot, relaxing bath. But it was going to be tonight, he’d even bothered to write it down in his blank planner. Tonight was going to be the night. 

At school, his classmates had gotten on his case when he accidentally mentioned knowing something about kissing like how Yamato did on that one TV drama. He didn’t say he’d done it before. He just said that it would  _ probably _ feel better if his classmate also did stuff with his hands. From across the room, Iori shot him that same look he’d given that other time when Tamaki had been dragged into a dirty conversation at school.  _ That _ day. And Tamaki now knew this look as “the look Iori gives on days he’s gonna do  _ that _ with his mouth.” See, he could remember important details.

Iori would be in his room tonight, eventually, but Tamaki needed to kill time. Doing homework would put him right to sleep, so he played games until the rest of the dorm quieted down. It didn’t take long because everyone was already quite tired, but he lowered the volume of his TV and paused mid-battle to do an auditory check. 

There was a familiar, soft double knock on his door, and he turned his head and watched as Iori swiftly stepped inside and just as swiftly shut the door and twisted the lock. Tamaki felt his heart pick up speed.

He turned his attention back to his game, running from the monster battle and saving as quickly as he could. Iori would understand that he wasn’t being ignored. Iori knew what Tamaki’s desperation looked like. 

When Tamaki shut the TV off, the room went dark except for the single night light Iori switched on just in time. He removed his hoodie and left it on the ground, grinning when he heard Iori click his tongue. He went over to his bed where Iori was patiently sitting and wrapped his arms around him. As soon as their lips touched, Iori immediately reached for the front of his pants and Tamaki was quick to grab his wrist to stop him. 

“No?” Iori murmured in confusion and Tamaki kissed him harder while lacing their fingers.  

He was going to do it. Maybe not as good as Iori, but it’s not like either of them had comparisons to make. Or did they? Did Iori? He was  _ really _ good after all, maybe too good. Perfect. Too perfect. 

“Iorin…” 

“Mm?” 

Iori breathed soft and warm against his face and Tamaki swished his thoughts around before asking, “Am I your first?” 

“First...? First what?” 

Tamaki swished his thoughts around more.

“You’re good when you…that thing…with your mouth. You’re really good and it feels like you practiced or something,” he said, slow and sure.

“Practice with  _ what _ ?” Iori hissed.

Tamaki shrugged, not wanting to suggest the things his classmates sometimes talked about. He’d seen pictures too, at his old school with other kids who were good at sneaking in magazines. Maybe Iori knew about them, but he didn’t want to offer the suggestion, because what if Iori  _ did _ know about them? Those things that looked too real. So real that it was like a horror movie—

“ _ Yotsuba-san _ !”

Tamaki hopped off his tangent train and muttered, “Never mind,” before swooping down to capture Iori’s bottom lip between his teeth. Iori sputtered and tried to speak, but Tamaki wrestled his tongue between his lips and it’s not like Iori had ever denied him entry. Today would not be a first.

He sucked softly on Iori’s smooth tongue, eyes narrow but open so he could catch the moment when Iori’s eyelids fluttered shut. He loved seeing that. With a groan, Iori gave up further questions and moved one of his hands between their bodies. He tried to shake Tamaki’s hand off, but Tamaki wouldn’t let him. 

“No, I wanna do it,” Tamaki breathed and swatted those greedy fingers away. 

Iori whined in response and Tamaki felt him freeze up when he pulled at the drawstrings of his pajamas. When Iori’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, he reined in his hormones and took a moment to properly look into eyes, searching for the hesitation and fear.

“No?” Tamaki asked, heart sinking because maybe it was going to be no, “I’m just gonna do it like you do. With my mouth.”

_ “Yotsuba-san!” _

Tamaki rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who said it like that first! And hey, don’t you think you should call me by my first name?” 

As dim as the night light was, he could see the darkening flush on Iori’s face. He grinned in triumph. 

“Come on,” he cooed. 

“Come on  _ what _ ?”

“Iorin, you know what. Come on, please? I’m about to do it. With my mouth.” 

“ _ Yo. Tsu. Ba. San!” _

“I. Zu. Mi. San!” he mimicked and chuckled when Iori’s cheeks grew darker. He hated when Tamaki used his last name, which was both cute and annoying because he still refused to use anything but Tamaki’s last name. It was kind of unfair. 

Iori turned his head away and Tamaki kissed his cheek, chin, and neck. Playfully at first, but then he was nibbling on Iori’s ear lobe and whispering, “Please,” over and over until Iori finally whispered back, “Fine….Ta…Tamaki.” 

Tamaki pulled the bow on his pajamas loose and kissed him hard. Iori gently hit his shoulder with a loose fist, only once out of annoyance, but then his fingers were carding through Tamaki’s hair and he was pulling Tamaki closer to deepen the kiss. Tamaki took it as a go and tugged his pants and underwear down before wrapping his fingers around Iori’s hard cock.  

“Mm, good!” Iori breathed, voice hitching as Tamaki rubbed the pad of his thumb over the tip, “Good, so, ah! Tamaki!” 

The breathy sound of his name from Iori’s lips sent an excited shiver down to his toes. And his cock. He’d have time for that later.

Tamaki maneuvered his other arm beneath the pillow under Iori’s head, trying to find a comfortable position as his strokes and caresses grew in confidence. The band of Iori’s sweatpants rode up over his hand, holding him back from doing more. He grumbled and broke away from Iori’s warm, inviting mouth and concentrated on tugging the constricting clothes lower.

Iori lifted his hips and used his own hands to help, shimmying the garment down to his knees and bringing Tamaki’s lips to his own once more as he used his feet to kick himself completely bare and free. He whined against Tamaki’s tongue as Tamaki’s hand began stroking him steadily and firmly, hips rising and legs parting without shame. 

With another step in tonight’s plan completed, Tamaki gave Iori’s sore lips a last nibble before moving down his chin and to his neck. When Iori swallowed, Tamaki chased and suckled at the bump.  

He had Iori’s cock in an eased grasp, alternating between stroking it slowly with the pads of his fingers and rubbing circles against the tip. Iori clamped his mouth shut and bucked when Tamaki pressed at the thick, underside vein with his nails before flicking and massaging away.  

“Yo…tsu…Tama…!” Iori gasped and reached down to cup Tamaki through his own joggers.  

Tamaki grunted in response because he’d been hard from the start and felt like bursting at this point, but he had to hold back. Tonight was for Iori. 

He pressed a kiss to Iori’s collarbone and then slid further down the bed until he could smell Iori’s strong scent. He wasn’t leaking or dripping and he’d just showered, but he was wet enough at the tip and Tamaki’s sense of smell was heightened by adrenaline at the thought of what he was about to do.  

Iori attempted to clamp his legs shut as soon as Tamaki’s breath hit him, and Tamaki put his hands on his knees but held back from wrenching them open. He was impatient by nature but his experiences with Iori taught him that patience was well rewarded. He looked up at Iori’s troubled yet aroused face and kissed his naked thigh. That by itself was enough to make Iori gasp, anticipation overriding embarrassment.  

“Iorin, please?” Tamaki whispered hot against his skin. He watched as it prickled and then planted another kiss in the same spot. Another. And another.  

Iori’s hand settled on his head, fingers trembling but not pushing him away. Tamaki smoothed a hand along Iori’s calf, ankle, and foot, gently caressing his skin while leaving a trail of kisses to his knee and all the way up to his waist. Iori noticeably shuddered at the intimacy and when Tamaki hesitantly pried one knee away from the other, he found little to no resistance. 

It was odd that Iori was being so shy, when he’d barely blinked the first time he’d suggested doing what Tamaki was about to do to him. But Iori was strange in that way, being stubborn to do things to Tamaki that he ended up being flustered about when reciprocated. At least he wasn’t completely against it. He just needed to be coaxed into accepting the same gestures of love he was willing to dole out. 

Tamaki could feel Iori relaxing in his hands with the way he shifted his hips as his knees were parted and the way he sighed with each kiss that Tamaki planted down his outer thigh, over his knee, and toward his inner thigh. Iori hadn’t been this doting when in Tamaki’s position, just getting on his knees or slinking down the bed once Tamaki’s fly was open, so his feelings of embarrassment were valid. Tamaki was certain he’d get squirmy, too. 

“Tamaki…!” Iori gasped when Tamaki left a rather sizeable mark on his inner thigh. He pushed Tamaki’s hair back so their eyes could meet and frowned. That cute, pouty kind.

“It’s not like anyone will see,” Tamaki countered with a shrug and kissed the spot.

He journeyed upwards again to a pelvic bone where he cleanly sucked until another mark was left and across to Iori’s navel where he licked and kissed while his hands caressed and rubbed Iori’s thighs. He slid his hands under Iori’s knees and pushed his legs up, receiving a scandalized squawk in response. With a grin he lowered his head and took the tip of Iori’s cock into his mouth, humming at the familiar taste that hit his tongue. He’d licked both their hands many times after they’d gotten each other off, but somehow the flavor was more intense coming directly from the source. Or maybe the mewl that escaped Iori’s lips after a few more licks made it all the more rewarding.

Tamaki swirled his tongue around, cleaning Iori up just so he could leak even more, and he recalled that one super move Iori always did. He pressed the flat of his tongue to the underside vein he’d played with earlier and rapidly flicked against it before sucking hard. 

He grunted when Iori’s reaction was to harshly tug his hair and accidentally kick him in the shoulder as he violently bucked. Tamaki kept his mouth and tongue in place and continued to passionately attack that weak spot, messily slurping at it and letting Iori’s desperate attempt to stay quiet fuel his passion. 

Tamaki’s lips wrapped around him again and Iori released a muffled keen, probably into the pillow because both his hands were tangled in Tamaki’s hair. Not that he cared. He loved when Iori messed up his hair. 

With a hum in his throat, Tamaki pressed on and took a little more of Iori into his mouth. He swiped his tongue all over, certain he was doing something right because Iori was pulling a little harder and harder on his hair every second and his hips were starting to uncontrollably shake. 

“Yotsu—Tamaki I’m gonna come!” Iori rambled in one breath. His voice was pitched and his volume was strained, a perfect harmony in Tamaki’s ears. 

He tried to recall how Iori tended to finish him and pulled back so he could wrap his fingers around the wet length and stroke it in time with the hasty movement of his tongue. Iori’s taste was stronger now and Tamaki sucked and licked all around the tip while squeezing with his hand, glancing up to catch the look of pure bliss on Iori’s face as he came with a grunt. His other hand still pinned one of Iori’s legs up at the thigh, and he felt Iori push at it as he tried to clamp his knees together, his back arching and neck twisting as he smothered his cry into Tamaki’s pillow. 

His release spilled over Tamaki’s fingers and Tamaki licked it up without hesitation, his hand loosening into a circle that Iori could thrust into as he rode out his orgasm. Tamaki swallowed, making a face because it was a lot thicker than he expected it to be. He felt a desperate clawing at his shoulders and slid up Iori’s heaving body when tugged, releasing a surprised squeak when their lips met in a sloppy kiss. 

Iori’s tongue slid into his mouth and Tamaki felt his own cock straining in his pants at the thought of his boyfriend eagerly cleaning up after himself. Iori’s hands weakened at his shoulders as the kiss progressed into softer pecks and lazy encircling tongues. 

Tamaki felt a hand slide down between their sweaty torsos to cup him through his pants, and he didn’t protest the attention this time. He needed to come. 

He gave Iori’s bruised bottom lip a lick, feeling his cock throb against questing fingers. He gazed into Iori’s blown-out, dark eyes, and grunted when he was suddenly flipped onto his back and Iori unceremoniously crawled atop him.

“Iorin, aren’t you tired?” he asked, heartbeat picking up as he watched Iori shimmy down with a definite plan in mind and the confidence to execute it perfectly.

“I’m just going to use my mouth,” Iori whispered against his cock before swallowing half of it in one breath.

He really was too good at this. 


End file.
